


Is Always, And Is Near

by spuffyduds



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Using the helmet is a trip that Charles finds it hard to come back from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is Always, And Is Near

It’s a trip, a rush, using the helmet, flying from mind to mind; an astonishing sensation. He keeps trying to explain this to Erik, but the look Erik’s giving him tells Charles he’s not getting it across.

And Erik’s half-carrying him down the hallway, wait, there’s a gap there, last Charles can remember he still had the helmet on, wait--

“The names, the places, did I write down--?”

“Yes,” Erik says. “You did everything. And now you should sleep. When did you sleep last?”

“I don’t need _sleep_ ,” Charles says, laughs at the very idea, and then he can’t stop laughing and he sounds odd, sounds like a seal with a smoker’s cough, and he laughs harder at the way he sounds and then time has slipped again and they’re not in the hallway, they’re in his bedroom.

“Opinions,” Erik says, “differ,” and he’s stripping Charles’s clothes off.

“Don’t need,” Charles says, and the room does gentle figure-eights around him. “I was flyyyying. I was, everyone, all these people were lights calling me, and I was, I was a big electric dragon...”

“Right,” Erik says, and pokes Charles with one finger in the center of the chest and Charles is flying again, no, wait, _falling_.

He yelps but then the bed catches him, softly and kindly. He rolls over, presses his face into it, says, “Thank you,” to the bed.

“Welcome,” Erik says.

“Not _you_.”

“Charles, you are completely incoherent. Sleep. If you come out of this room before tomorrow morning I will throw you back in and melt the locks shut.”

“Wait, no--” Erik’s leaving, he’s _leaving_ , and just a few minutes ago Charles was with _everyone_ , all his people shining around him and _in_ him, he was a constellation of the gifted, they were all the stars sketching the struts of his wings and now he’s going to be alone.

Alone with this bed which was so kind a moment ago and now is too too soft, he’s having trouble getting his face up out of it, it’s trying to _eat_ him.

“Rollgh me overmph,” he says, and Erik does, but then he tries to leave again.

“No no no,” Charles says, “stay, can’t sleep if you go, frightening bed.”

Erik laughs but sits down, tilting the mattress toward him and Charles rolls with the tilt, slings a heavy uncoordinated arm over Erik’s lap.

“Fuck me,” Charles says.

“That’s an incompetent seduction attempt, even by your standards,” Erik says, but he gets his fingers in Charles’s hair.

“Mmm,” Charles says. “Please.”

“I don’t know,” Erik says. “Fucking someone who’s too sleepy to even move. What’s in it for _me_?”

And Charles can’t manage to talk, can’t even manage to wrangle his thoughts into a shape, just sends out a whirling mass of //please please can’t let go all the minds all the lights all of me everywhere doing everything just need to be _done to_ please//.

And Erik’s hands are moving over him, thank god, arranging him across the bed, and then stroking, legs and arms and belly, softly, Erik’s never this gentle.

Charles fades for a moment, perhaps more, because now Erik’s deep in him, moving slowly. Charles is someplace beyond relaxed, usually he keeps track of so much, so much beyond himself and now he’s not even sure where his own hands are, somewhere on Erik’s skin, and Erik is fucking him back to sleep, rocking him back to sleep. Charles is warm and filled and rocked and _trust_ is not a word he’s ever been able to use seriously, he’s always known too much about everyone and himself, but there must be something, some other word for this, whatever this is.

“Another word,” he mumbles against some warm part of Erik, it might be an ear and it might be an elbow, Charles’s eyes are closed and he might never open them again, just stay here with Erik moving him, slow, slow.

“Sleep, Charles,” Erik says and Charles is going to, he’s going to fall asleep without ever finding the word, but that’s okay, that will be all right, as long as Erik keeps moving, and he does, he does.

\--end--


End file.
